Franglais
by words.my.voice
Summary: Arthur is visiting his friend Lance in France for a few weeks during the summer. He doesn't speak the language and the town is small and boring, but Lance's friends are alright. Even if that skinny, dark haired one seems to enjoy annoying Arthur. Now if only Arthur could understand what the heck he keeps saying in French... Merthur. Modern AU.


**I'm not French and I'm not British either and don't have a Britpicker (anyone want to volunteer? wow, shameless, sorry), so forgive me for messing up two cultures. Also, I'm horrible at slash and not sure if this actually makes it to M, but I tried. **

**I don't own Merlin.**

**Translation at the bottom. Thank you so much to Chadyz and Leust16 for help with the French!**

**Please review. :) In whatever language you want.**

The only reason I was sitting on a stoop in a tiny, sleepy French village was that it would have been so much worse to be stuck at home. The very idea of nothing but Dad and Morgana for an entire summer already had me thinking of going insane, so I'd immediately taken Lance, one of my best friends at boarding school, up on his offer when he asked if I wanted to visit his home, a Brittany town in France, for a month. That being said, on my very first day there, I was quickly coming to realize that the very idea of nothing but a sleepy village had me thinking of going insane as well.

According to Lance, it was only big enough for one large grocery store, had no movie theater, few things of particular importance, and everyone spoke _French_, which I definitely didn't. So basically, it would be very difficult to entertain myself. I didn't want to spend the entire month trailing after Lance, who had friends, a girlfriend, and a job here, but at least for the moment, I was stuck on the stoop of his house, waiting for him to come out and show me around. We'd just arrived and greeted his family and now it was time to see just how small this town was.

The stoop looked out onto a small, completely empty square with a number of other houses and a few shops lit up in the evening sun. I was eyeing a dusty antique shop, when my eye caught on someone else strolling into the previously deserted square.

He looked about my age, 17, and had pale skin, ears that stuck out, and very black hair. His slightly too big button up shirt was black as well, and it was paired with scuffed trainers and slim jeans. As he approached, he caught me eyeing him.

"Bonjour," he gave me a lopsided grin.

I nodded in response.

"Vous êtes un touriste?"

I shook my head and looked away in the other direction, hoping he'd go away.

"Non? Qui êtes-vous?"

No such luck. I was forced to turn back and meet his very blue gaze. "What?"

"Ah, vous n'êtes pas français."

I caught something about being French. "English."

"Bien. Welcome," the boy suddenly switched to English. His English was actually very good, though it had a touch of a French accent and, strangely, an Irish accent as well. "Are you looking to buy antiques?" he grinned, gesturing to the shop.

"No, just staying in town for a bit." I tried to be as civil as possible, but I really wanted the guy to leave with his questions.

At that moment, Lance appeared. I pushed myself to my feet, grateful for his timing, only to pause when Lance let out a shout and launched himself towards the boy in a hug. The boy cried out in response and the two burst into a rapid torrent of French once they broke apart from the hug.

I stood there awkwardly waiting until Lance remembered me.

"Ah! I am sorry, Arthur. No more French. English until you start to pick some of it up!" Somehow, I found this possibility doubtful. "Come, come. This is Merlin, one of my best friends from when we were small. Merlin, this is Arthur. He and I go to school together and he is staying with my family for a while."

Merlin looked intrigued. "Enchanté. It's nice to meet you."

"Right. Nice to meet you too," I replied, trying to sound lighthearted.

"Now," Lance smiled brightly. "Merlin, would you like to help me show Arthur around the town?"

Lance hadn't been kidding. The town was _small._ We managed to tour the whole thing in forty-five minutes. Lance and Merlin showed me the large, historical church and the World War II museum, pretty much the only two attractions in the town. Lance actually worked at the museum, helping visitors and arranging pamphlets. Merlin worked for his great uncle in a convenience store.

By the end of the tour, I was in even more of a bad mood. Lance was a nice guy and great fun to talk to, but he and Merlin had a rapport that only people who grew up together and know all each other's secrets have, and I kept being left out in their spontaneous stories and inside jokes inspired by the places we passed. Plus, Merlin was cheeky and seemed to delight in trying to pull me out of my comfort zone in the unfamiliar culture and language, only to shoot me a brilliant grin.

"Don't mind Merlin," Lance said, laughing. "He's only teasing you because we all did it to him when he first arrived from Ireland until he learned French."

When the tour was finally over, Lance decreed it time for dinner, while Merlin bounced excitedly.

"Come on Arthur, it'll be fun," Lance grinned at me. "You can meet the whole gang."

A few minutes later, we were entering a small, cramped, café. Merlin pulled away, shouting to a guy with shaggy brown hair about our age in an apron.

"Monsieur, ta meilleure table s'il te plaît!"

The guy laughed uproariously and said something back in rapid French, clapping Merlin on the back and waving to Lance. He pointed to a two empty tables in the corner and we were bustled into the accompanying chairs.

Over the next five minutes, I was practically buried in a wave of French and unfamiliar people. A gaggle of people our age who all were friends with either Lance, or Merlin, or both, swarmed the table, either joining us or saying a few things and passing on with a wave.

Among the company, there was Lance's girlfriend, Gwen, who sat at his side, a sweet, clever, and pretty girl I finally met for the first time and couldn't help warming too. She brought her brother, Elyan, as well, who I later found didn't speak much English beyond football terms, which worked just fine for me. The waiter's name was Gwaine, and he alternated between doing his job and taking extended breaks at our table before getting yelled at by his boss. Others swarmed around, but I didn't catch their names and didn't bother to ask again.

It was surprisingly pleasant. Once everyone'd been introduced, Lance quieted everyone long enough to make a request.

"Bonjour tout le monde. Now, Arthur does not speak any French, so I request that you all speak only English so he does not feel left out. D'accord?"

And everyone complied, eagerly trying out their school English and peppering me with questions about London. Gwaine even was immensely helpful in translating the menu for me and recommending where I could find beer, even though I was underage.

The only one who didn't stick to the no French rule was Merlin. He babbled on in a happy mixture of both to whomever he pleased. Lance rolled his eyes good naturedly, but didn't seem to think it was worth the bother to reprimand him. I didn't really mind either, as I was starting to get along with the others. Gwen had been to London, and she and I got on a long conversation of the best landmarks, then there was a passionate argument about football. But still, every once in a while, Merlin would lean over and mutter something in French in Gwaine's ear, then shoot a glance at me while they both burst out laughing, and I couldn't help but feel a little hot under the collar.

* * *

Contrary to expectations, the visit seemed to be shaping up to be alright. Lance's mates were great, his family was warm and friendly, and the town, while very sleepy, was relaxing.

Then I dropped my mobile in the sink.

"Aw shit," I muttered, picking it back up and examining it. It'd been sitting on the counter while Lance and I helped wash up dinner for his mum, but I hadn't been looking and knocked it in anyway.

Lance peered over. "Does it work?"

I pressed a few buttons. "Nope. Nothing. Is there a mobile store in town?"

Lance shook his head. "Not for that kind. You'll have to go to one of the neighboring towns. I can take you on the weekend. Can you live without it for a few days?"

"No, my dad's going to call to check in the day after tomorrow. I have to have a mobile that works or he'll flip."

"Your dad schedules his check in calls?"

"Yeah," I replied tersely. "Trust me, it's better than him calling randomly without warning."

"Alright, I'll drive you tomorrow," conceded Lance, patting my on the shoulder.

"What about work?"

He waved a hand. "I'm sure I can get off for a bit in the morning."

The next day, I heard a motor out front.

"Arthur," Lance's mum, Mrs. DuLac, called. "Merlin is here for you."

_What?_ Thoroughly confused about why Merlin would be at the door for me, I went outside to see what he wanted. He was waiting just outside, sitting on a small, grey motorbike, holding a vividly green helmet on his knee.

"I'm to take you to the next town."

"Where's Lance?"

"He couldn't get out of work, so he sent me instead. He'd have called you but, well, you can imagine the problem with that. Here's the text he sent me." He showed me a text in French. I took his word it was full of apologies from Lance.

"You really don't have to take me. I can take the bus instead."

"Hmm, you, alone, on the bus system, with no French. Sounds like a great idea."

"Fine smart ass. I've got a map. I can ride Lance's bicycle." He'd offered it to me for getting around a couple days before. It had been nice of him, though I was not the best bicycle rider and it looked about ten years old and build for a boy much younger than me.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Seriously Arthur, my motorbike is faster and easier. Just let me take you."

"I've—I've never been on a motorbike before. I don't really know how to ride one."

He tossed me another helmet that was attached to the back. Thankfully, this one was black. "It's easy. You just sit beside me and hang on and try not to lean too far to one side."

I stared at him, aghast. "You've got to be kidding me. I'm not riding behind you."

"Why not?"

"'Cause that's where the girl sits!"

"Mon dieu. Arthur, it's a back seat, not a dress. Men ride in the back all the time. Get on. You're in a lovely French village and you get to put your hands on the waist of a Frenchman. Many people fantasize about this."

I managed to keep from flushing at that. Yes, I liked guys and Merlin was actually quite attractive in a gangly, offbeat sort of way, but there was no way I was going to tell Merlin that, and it didn't make the situation any less embarrassing.

"You're not a Frenchman, you're an Irish import. That's much less exciting," I grumbled as I strapped on the helmet and approached the bike.

Merlin grinned as I managed to clamber onto the bike and awkwardly rested my hand on his waist, keeping as much space between us as possible. "It makes me doubly exotic."

The town Merlin took me to was larger and had a bustling town square filled with cafés and shops for the tourists. Merlin directed me to the mobile shop and waited outside while I talked to the man inside.

When I came out, Merlin was leaning against his bike.

"Tu as finis?" he asked.

"No comprendo."

"Your Spanish accent is even worse than your French accent."

I snorted. "You're one to talk."

Merlin looked miffed. "I'll have you know, my French accent is wonderful. Très bon. I can pass as an ordinary French person any day."

"You are definitely not ordinary, Merlin," I replied with a shake of my head.

Merlin only grinned back.

Rolling my eyes, I looked around. "So what now? Should we head back?"

Merlin hummed as he looked around too. Suddenly, his face lit up. He looked like a kid who'd seen sweets.

"What?"

"Une glacier! We should get glace!"

I stared at him, confused. "Glass? Like windows?"

"No," now Merlin was the one rolling his eyes. He pointed down the street. "Glace. Ice cream!"

Scratch that, he _was_ a little kid who'd seen sweets. With a large self-sacrificing, and admittedly entirely fake, sigh, I followed him down to the shop.

"So," I asked once we both had our ice cream. "If you're Irish, how did you end up living in France?"

Merlin licked his ice cream. He'd gotten frambois and ananas, and I wasn't quite sure what that meant. "I grew up in Ireland. My dad was a bit of a wanderer, and he and my mum ran a shop of things he'd found or other people had found in far off places. We lived there until I was three."

"Then what happened?"

"Dad wandered off." This was delivered with no inflection. A simple statement. "And didn't come back. We had to sell the shop. Mum tried to make ends meet on her own for a while, but it was tough as a single mum. Eventually, she decided we should go live with her uncle who lived in France. Et voilà. I was almost five."

I stared at him. His entire story told calmly and bluntly, and all Merlin did was take another lick of his ice cream. He looked up and caught my startled look.

"Sorry, that was probably more than you wanted to know. I tend to talk too much."

"S'alright," I murmured, going back to my own cone of double scoop chocolate.

"How about you? How'd you end up in France?"

"Um," I hesitated. Spilling my secrets wasn't really my style. "I was curious, and Lance offered. Seemed like fun."

"You didn't want to spend time at home?"

I snorted. "Are you kidding? My sister's alright, but I'm all for reducing the amount of time I spend with my dad."

"What about your mum?"

Well, Merlin had shared his family issues, I supposed it was only fair I share mine. "She died. When I was very young. Morgana's actually my stepsister, but her mum divorced Dad and moved to America."

"I'm sorry," Merlin said softly. I looked over at him to see an uncharacteristically sad and sincere expression on his face. It was enough to pull at the corners of my mouth.

"Thanks. Sorry about your dad too."

We continued to eat in silence for a few minutes before something occurred to me.

"Merlin, why aren't you at work?"

"Hmm?"

"Lance said you help your great-uncle in his store. Why aren't you there now?"

"Oh," Merlin waved a hand. "It's my day off."

I paused and looked at him. "You agreed to chauffeur me around the countryside on your day off?"

Merlin just shrugged. "Well, Lance asked. And it led to glace!" He held up the cone triumphantly. "Plus, I thought it might be fun." He licked his cone, catching a red drop right before it hit his hand, before shooting me that cheeky grin again. "You're alright to spend time with. You're not _that_ much of a prat."

I groaned. "And here I thought you were actually being sincere."

"That was very sincere!"

"Yeah whatever."

And with that we finished our glace and finally rode back home, with only a moderate amount of bickering.

* * *

Soon, life in the Brittany town had settled into a nice rhythm. I often helped Lance in the small museum, making sure the little leaflets in English were spelled correctly and answering simple questions for English-speaking tourists. Evenings were spent with Lance's friends, laughing and chatting loudly in the café where Gwaine worked, until he was fired for chatting too much with us. I got the feeling from the others Gwaine being fired was not an uncommon occurrence. But we only moved onto a different café or the nearby fields with a football, or somewhere else.

Merlin and I stilled argued and butted heads and teased each other, and somehow most days I ended up on the back of his motorbike while he showed me around the countryside once he was finished helping his great-uncle. I'd refuse to ride behind, he'd call me stupid and stubborn, and then off we'd go to see a cathedral, or town, or a bunch of ancient stones that some druid or other had once allegedly made dance.

Today it was a canal. Merlin parked, explaining how they stretched all over Brittany, then we walked up and down a path that followed the river. We got to a lock just in time to see a boat entering, and a girl come out and help tie it to the lock. When she saw us watching, she waved at Merlin.

"Friend of yours?" I asked when he waved back.

"Freya," he replied with a smile. "Her dad's the lock keeper. We called her the Lady of the River. She was my first kiss," he added.

That gave me an odd spontaneous twang in my chest. I put it down to indigestion. "Yeah?"

"Oui. The only girl I've ever kissed as well."

I studied him. "You've only kissed one person?"

Merlin turned and gave me a blinding cheeky grin. "I didn't say that. Come on Arthur! Let's race the boat to the next lock."

It wasn't that being at home or at school was so terrible. But there were certain expectations and pressures there. Here, there were none. I just felt, well, happy.

* * *

"Arthur! Lève-toi! Get up!" Gwaine said as he burst into my room one day.

"Wha?" I sat bolt upright on my bed from where I'd definitely been doing my summer reading and not sleeping.

"We are going to a club!" continued Gwaine in an excited cheer.

"Wha-Why?"

"Because there is music and beautiful girls and lots to drink. We will have fun, oui?"

"Oui," I replied groggily, using one of the very few bits of French I had learned in a little over two weeks. The cogs in my brain turned slowly, gradually waking up and trying to process how a town that small had a club. "There's a club here in town?"

Gwaine laughed. "Non, abruti. We will take Lance's car. Everyone is almost here, so hurry and dress!" There was a motor outside the window. "Ah! C'est Merlin. Come on Arthur!"

Groaning, I pushed myself out of bed and began searching for something appropriate to wear. Settling on a navy blue button-down and worn jeans, I joined the others outside.

"Pas mal," Merlin greeted me with a cheeky grin. He was wearing a black tee shirt advertising a band from the 80s, tight dark jeans, and a couple of chain bracelets around his wrists.

"What?"

He shook his head and brushed me off. "Nothing." Shaking my head, I followed him and Gwaine to Lance's car, trying not to pay too much attention to just how tight Merlin's pants were.

The club was dim and pulsing with music when we arrived. Gwaine immediately disappeared in search of alcohol, pulling Merlin with him. I craned my neck trying to see where they'd gone, but they were lost in the sea of people. Ignoring an inexplicable twinge of disappointment, I turned back and joined Lance, Gwen, and Elyan.

"Bonjour," a very blonde girl in a very low-cut top said to me much later in the night, suddenly pressing into my side. "Je m'appelle Vivian."

"Um, Arthur," I replied, laughing as she pulled me away to the dance floor. I spun her around a few times for fun, but when she tried to move in closer, I backed away, holding up my hands in surrender. She looked slightly annoyed, but gave up and quickly found a different partner.

I watched her go, then turned make to find some of the mates I'd left behind only to crash into someone behind me. I stumbled, but caught myself on the person's arm, just in time to realize it was Merlin.

"There you are!" he grinned, shouting over the pounding music. "Thought we'd lost you!"

"Nah, just got pulled away for a dance." I nodded to Vivian a few meters off.

An odd look flitted across Merlin's face. "Don't let me interrupt."

I shook my head. "Not really my type." It was only then I noticed a bit belatedly how close we were standing to each other. The noise of the club necessitated it for talking, but our hands were still holding on to each other's arms from our collision

Merlin seemed to realize this at the same time. "Sorry," he said, almost shyly, ducking his head as he dropped my arm and took a step back.

"No," I held on, keeping him from moving back. Merlin's head shot up to stare at me. Slowly, heart beginning to pound and throat going dry, I took a step forward, bringing us close together again. "It's ok."

Merlin just continued to stare, eyes scanning my face. I waiting, holding still and feeling more nervous than I could ever remember feeling. Merlin's hand uncurled and wrapped around my arm again. Without ever really saying anything, the two of us began slowly to move, dancing together to the music, eyes still riveted on each other.

How long we danced like that I didn't really know, but we moved closer and closer until we were just pressed against each other, Merlin's hand resting lightly on my hip. My gaze slipped down to his mouth, just to see lips part slightly. We were still moving closer and my breath was catching in my throat...

"Arthur! Merlin!"

And that was when Gwaine burst into life beside us. We leapt apart automatically, but Gwaine didn't seem to notice anything odd. He wrapped an arm around each of our shoulders, jabbering on in French about "une très belle fille". I swallowed a wave of disappointment for the second time that night, and tried to catch Merlin's eye. He was resolutely ignoring me, attention fixed on Gwaine's story, but his cheeks were bright pink, even in the dim light of the club.

We went home soon after that, Elyan and I supporting a very tipsy Gwaine to the car. Merlin continued to keep to himself, slipping into the front passenger seat of the car and staring out of the window for the entire ride home. By the time we'd dropped off everyone besides Lance, Merlin, and me, I was prepared to write off our... moment on the dance floor as a misunderstanding,

Lance parked next to Merlin's motorbike outside the house, and we got out.

"Tu peux conduire?" Lance asked Merlin, while I waited, glancing around at the dark houses and trying to look unconcerned.

"Oui, oui. C'est bon." Merlin waved him off as he grabbed his helmet.

"D'accord." Lance hugged him and bounded past me, heading up the steps and unlocking the door. "Bonne nuit, Merlin," he called as he disappeared inside.

I turned to Merlin and opened my mouth to say goodnight, when I realized Merlin was suddenly very close to me. I closed my mouth tightly and watched him bite his lip nervously. Abruptly, Merlin leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, lingering for only a moment. Then he turned away, hopped on his motorbike, and was gone.

* * *

For the next few days, Merlin and I danced awkwardly around each other, neither one quite sure what to say. It didn't help that Merlin's great-uncle wasn't feeling well, and we didn't see as much of Merlin as he was needed in the convenience store. But it was alright, I figured, I still had a week and a half of my visit. Things would figure themselves out.

That is, until I got a phone call from my father.

"Arthur, I want you on the train home tomorrow."

I stared at my mobile in shock. "What?"

"You're coming home tomorrow," he said in his no-nonsense tone. "My secretary has planned out an itinerary and is emailing it to you now."

"But I'm supposed to stay for another week. Lance's parents—"

"I don't care. You've wasted enough time enjoying yourself in Southern France—"

"Brittany," I corrected weakly.

He ignored me. "—and it's time you came home and were sensible. I've spoken to a colleague about an internship for you, and you'll be starting in a few days."

"But—"

"That is my final word, Arthur. I will see you tomorrow evening." And the line went dead, leaving me clenching it tightly in confusion and despaired.

"That's not fair!" Lance exclaimed when I told him. "You can't just leave a week early!"

"My dad's decided it," I sighed. "And when Dad decides something it might as well be royal mandate. I'll pack up my stuff tonight and take a train out tomorrow morning."

Lance frowned. "No, you can't leave without seeing everyone one more time. I'll call them. We'll have a party."

For some reason, the idea of everyone surrounding me and having fun only made me sadder. It reminded me how happy I was here and how definitely not happy it'd be at home. "That's alright Lance, you don't have to. It's getting late in the evening anyway. Most of them probably have plans."

"Yeah, but I'm sure I can find some people. Gwaine will be willing to go out at least."

"Really, Lance, it's fine," I shook my head. "I think I'd prefer a quiet night actually. So I can really pack and get ready to go."

Lance didn't look convinced, but he didn't push it. "Ok then. But I'm calling and getting some people to send you off in the morning. You shouldn't leave without any goodbyes at all."

"Alright."

Lance left, closing the door behind him, and I began to pack. It was faster than I expected, my clothes going quickly into the suitcase that'd been under the bed, leaving no trace I'd ever been there. Just as the village would be tomorrow after I'd left. Maybe that's why I didn't feel like seeing Lance's friends and remembering that they'd get to stay here with each other. It was easy to feel like I didn't matter at all here, and never really would. It was better if I just slipped away quietly.

Sighing, I sat on my bed. Something wasn't right. It was getting later, and I still had a bit more packing to do, but there was someone on my mind. One person I did want to say goodbye to. Or say something to.

Without another thought, I stood up, grabbed my jacket, and headed for the door. Nobody saw me leave and within a minute I was out on the street and, even though I knew it might be foolish, broke into a run.

Twilight was falling when I knocked on the door. There were a few footsteps from the other side, then it swung open to reveal Merlin. He gave me a brief questioning look, standing disheveled and flushed on his doorstep.

Abruptly, anything I might have planned to say left me. "It's my last night here," I finally said softly. It was the only thing I could think of. There was so much I wanted, that I didn't even know how to begin asking.

But Merlin seemed to understand, because without a word, he turned back inside, picked up the helmets, and following me outside, closing the door quietly behind him. Silently, we did up our helmets, unlocked the bike, and got on. For once, I didn't complain about riding in back as Merlin started it up, merely wrapped my arms around his waist a little tighter than normal as we sped through the streets. I had no idea where we were going as we went farther and farther out of town in the growing dark, but Merlin seemed to know.

Finally we stopped at the top of a neighboring hill. We'd left the houses and lights of the town behind, and as we left the bike on the side of the road and settled in the grass, there was only the sound of the crickets.

For a long moment, we just sat there, shoulder-to-shoulder, staring down into the valley. I tipped my head back gaze up at the vast network of stars appearing one by one above us, and I could feel Merlin looking at me.

"How do you say 'stars'?" I asked. In the silence that had fallen since we had left it seemed strange, hesitant.

"Les étoiles," he answered gently.

"Les étoiles," I repeated, trying out the words in my mouth. I looked back at him and shared a small smile, then glanced down. Our hands were resting on our knees, only an inch apart.

"How do you say 'hands'?"

He uncurled his hand, reached across that inch, and took my hand in his. "Les mains."

Smiling softly through the giddy feeling in my chest, I squeezed his hand back. "Les mains." The giddy feeling tightened into something else, and suddenly I had to tilt my head back to the stars again to try and keep a few unexpected tears from escaping down my face. "How do you say 'I don't want to leave'?"

Even though my eyes had now shut tight I felt Merlin move closer, his thumb stroking my palm. "Je ne veux pas partir."

"And how do you say 'I will miss you'?"

There was silence for a second before Merlin answered in a horse voice that caught and threatened to break. "Tu me manqueras. You will be missing to me."

I opened my eyes, suddenly not caring if there were tears and turned to Merlin, catching his mouth in a soft kiss. "Tu me manqueras," I whispered, before he pulled me back again into a deeper kiss.

"Tu me manqueras, tu me manqueras, tu me manqueras," I whispered between kisses that seemed to grow more fevered with each one until we were pressed together, hands gripping tightly in tee-shirts, tasting and touching and breathing together, as if the other would disappear if we didn't hold on.

One of my hands slipped below the hem of Merlin's shirt as we tipped sideways onto the grass.

"Wait," Merlin whispered, pulling back. I withdrew my hands, worried I'd done something wrong, but Merlin just smiled softly, kissed me lightly on the lips, and stood to go over to the bike. From a bag on the back of the motorbike, Merlin pulled a large picnic blanket, spreading it on the ground and gesturing for me to move onto it, which I did.

"It's more comfortable," he said and suddenly my lap was full of Merlin, straddling my legs and stripping off his shirt. I couldn't help but run my hand down his pale chest, feeling goose bumps appear in response while Merlin helped me to strip off my shirt.

We pressed tightly together on the blanket, kissing with deep, all consuming, openmouthed kissed, then breaking apart for me to kiss and nip at his neck, while Merlin tangled one hand in my hair and scratched lightly down my back with the other.

One pair of jeans got tossed aside, then the other. Merlin and I paused our frenzied kisses and groping. He was on his back, with me leaning half over him. His large blue eyes blinked softly as I brushed an errant strand of hair away from his forehead.

Hi," I murmured.

"Hi," he whispered back.

I pursed my lips, but the question on my mind slipped out anyway. "I thought you didn't want this."

Merlin swallowed and cupped the side of my face. "I know. I'm sorry for ignoring you."

"Why did you?"

He sighed, but didn't look away. "Because I knew you were leaving. I thought if I didn't do anything, it'd just fade, and it'd be less painful to let you go."

I placed my hand over his on my cheek, lacing our fingers together. "And now?"

Merlin pulled me into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around me, tangling our legs, and burying his face in the crook of my neck. "I don't want to let you go," he whispered, his voice breaking.

I kissed him deeply as the last bits of clothing were stripped away. The kiss only broke when we finally pressed together and gasped. Merlin pushed me onto my back suddenly, hands and mouth moving urgently over my skin. He pressed against me, whispering heartbreakingly beautiful bits of French.

"Je ne veux pas te perdre. Je voudrais que tu puisses rester ici pour toujours. Je pense que je pourrais t'aimer."

Part of me desperately wanted to know what he was saying, but a greater part was too awed and overwhelmed and preferred to let the soft words wash over me and remain a mystery. So instead of asking, I simply pulled Merlin back up until we were face to face and smiled as we kissed.

We never let go, only pulled each other in tighter, grinding against each other, as our breaths came in faster and faster pants, and the tension mounted in little gasps and whispers of "Arthur," and "Merlin". Finally I broke, burying a strangled whimper in Merlin's hair, while he left fingernail marks in my back with a chocked sob.

We returned to the village a short while after sunrise. The entire night had been spend on the blanket, moving together, touching and tasting, then resting in each other's arms until we recovered enough to do it again. The village was very quiet as we zipped through the grey dawn, and I pressed myself tightly against Merlin's back, wrapping my arms around him and resting my cheek on his shoulder.

We reached Lance's house all too fast. I got off and for a moment we regarded each other sadly. Then I finally leaned in for one more kiss and headed for Lance's door. But before I reached it, the door swung open and Lance stepped out.

"There you are. I woke up early to help you pack, but you weren't in your room. Where have you been?"

Lance stopped, noticing my mussed hair and the clothes from the day before. I glanced over at Merlin, and Lance followed my gaze. His eyes landed on Merlin, and his mouth fell open in surprise. Merlin just nodded to him and kick stared to the bike, driving back down the cobbled streets. Lance turned to me with a small smile that I returned. "Come on, I'll help you get ready."

* * *

As Lance had promised, there was a small group waiting to see me off at the train station.

Gwaine pulled me into a hug and told me I was "un mec génial pour un anglais". Elyan clapped me on the shoulder, and Gwen gave me a kiss on each cheek. Lance and I patted each other on the back as well and said we'd see each other back at school in September.

Then, last, it was Merlin's turn. He'd hung back quietly while the others said goodbye, but now he planted himself right in front of me. I hesitated, unsure of what I should do in front of everyone, but Merlin jumped right in.

"You will stay in contact," he stated matter-of-factly. "Write emails or letters or Facebook posts or call or text or Skype or whatever." He handed me a slip of paper with every possible mode of contact written on it and continued in the same businesslike tone. "If you just go now and disappear, I will come and poke out your eyes."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really? My eyes."

Merlin returned the look resolutely. "Yes."

"And why them in particular?"

"Because they are very blue and a lovely part of your face, and if you're going to be a dollop head then you don't deserve them."

I laughed. "You have the worst insults. But fair enough." Merlin grinned back. He took a step forward, grabbing my jacket just as I cupped his cheek, and we proceeded to snog each other thoroughly in front of the our very surprised, with the exception of Lance, friends.

I could have stayed there forever, but soon Lance was tugging on my sleeve and reminding me of the train. Merlin and I broke apart laughing, and he planted a wet kiss on my cheek, whispering, "À bientôt. Means 'see you soon'."

I smiled and tried to kiss him again, but with shouts of laughter, our friends, and Merlin himself, shoved me down the platform and hurried me onto the train. They stood outside while I found a seat next to the window so I could see them.

When the train started, I waved, watching them wave back. Merlin walked along with the train until it picked up speed and he and Gwaine tried to race it to the end of the platform.

My last glimpse of the tiny French town I had so dreaded just a few weeks ago before the train rounded a corner, was Merlin, standing at the very edge of the platform, waving madly. The others ran up behind him to wave as well, shouting goodbyes in two languages that were lost on the wind.

I smiled and rested my hand against the glass. "À bientôt," I murmured.

* * *

_Translation:_

_Bonjour – Hello_

___Vous êtes un touriste?_ – Are you a tourist?

_Non? Qui êtes-vous? – No? Who are you?_

_Ah, vous n'êtes pas français. – Ah, you aren't French._

_Enchanté. – Enchanted. (Standard version of "nice to meet you")_

_Monsieur, __ta meilleure table_ s'il te plaît! – Mister, your best table please! (Informal, don't say it in a restaurant.)

_Bonjour tout le monde. – Hello everyone._

_D'accord? – Ok?_

_Mon dieu. - My God._

___Tu as finis?_ – You done?

_Très bon. – Very good._

_Frambois – Raspberry._

_Ananas – Pineapple._

_Lève-toi. – Get up._

_Abruti – Idiot_

_C'est Merlin. – That's Merlin._

_Pas mal. – Not bad._

_Bonjour, je m'appelle Vivian. – Hello, my name is Vivian._

_Une très belle fille. – A very pretty girl._

___Tu peux conduire?_ – Can you drive?

_Oui, oui. C'est bon. – Yeah, yeah. It's good._

___"Je ne veux pas te perdre. Je voudrais que tu puisses rester ici pour toujours. Je pense que je pourrais t'aimer."_. – I don't want to lose you. I wish you could stay here forever. I think I could love you.

___Un mec génial pour un anglais_ – A great guy for an Englishman.


End file.
